lorelei-larai

[lorelei-larai]

help i can't stop imagining what sylus would do if mc did this (or sent this to him)

LMAOOO i think he’d have an inkling of what u were up to with the amount of “hmm…”s and “i see”s you’d be whispering to yourself behind him.

when you actually do pick it apart, he’d notice immediately. but he wont tell. its great actually, now he knows your stubborn self is mad at him.

he’d curl up against you, nuzzle your cheek like a giant cat and stay there til you melt. then he’ll ask you between kisses, “mm… where’d you put my brakes, beloved?”

fat chance of him leaving now though. not when he’s all putty in your hands. you hold off til you’ve had your fill of him cozying up to you. he’ll indulge you all the same. brakes be damned.

[lorelei-larai]

[lorelei-larai]

Cat-fé

Sylus x Female!No-Mc

Prologue: Spinx cat without a front paw

Summary: Miss Hunter brings a new companion to the cafe. And you struggle with not thinking badly of him.

Tags: Non!Mc is the owner of a cat cafe and overprotective cat mom. Non!Mc and Mc are friends. Fluff (I think so?). I took too many liberties with the kitty cards. No beta reader, we die like Grandma. Mc's name is Hunter.

Wc: 3.7k

Author note: I'm not an English speaker, so please point out typos to save me the embarrassment of finding them myself. This is a little test for the fic. Based on this idea.

Your day begins at 7 a.m., with the irritating beep of the alarm clock mercilessly shattering the remnants of forgotten dreams. You don't hesitate to turn it off, but getting your body out of the warm sheets is another story. The fabric seems to have clung to your skin, as if it doesn't want to part with you as much as you don't want to part with it.

Your routine begins in the bathroom: you brush your teeth, do what you need to do, take a quick shower to wake up properly, and, in front of the fogged-up mirror, you check out the most recent scratches. Fine cuts, still pink, a reminder of that last cat up for adoption who, luckily, has already found a family—one that isn't yours. That little devil was a storm disguised as fluff. And although it was adorable, you silently thank whatever feline deity that it is no longer your responsibility.

The second part of the day takes you downstairs. You turn on the lights in the shop and head to the next room, where your real bosses await: the cats. As soon as you open the door and light floods the room, a symphony of meows erupts. They know that the day doesn't start without the stars of the show. You almost trip over a couple of furry bodies as you approach the bowls. You serve them warm milk and treats, as you do every morning, before letting them out into the café. The door is left open for them to do their thing.

Your small—and, after so many years, no longer so humble—business occupies two floors. The first is dedicated entirely to coffee and your four-legged companions: a cat café that has been around for years. You don't even remember how it all started, perhaps shortly after the catastrophe of '34. You still remember Bromo, that first white cat with black spots that you picked up in your arms. He didn't come alone. More arrived, and with them you rebuilt your home. The day you opened the café, they simply took over the place and, over time, it ended up being theirs.

A tabby, one of those still up for adoption—Tiger, if you remember correctly, named by one of the rescuers' children—rubs against your leg. You move away suspiciously. You still remember the time you petted him and he sank his teeth into you. Cute, yes, but a deadly trap. You have to gently push him out of the kitchen when he insists on following you. That's the only area off-limits to them. Not only because they leave hair everywhere, but because they're accident specialists: burned tails, stolen plates, broken glasses. You still don't understand how one of them managed to knock an entire box of cookies onto the floor.

By 8 a.m., the cats had already settled into their favorite spots in the café: on the velvet cushions protruding from the pillars, or on the wooden structures that cross the ceiling from one end to the other. You leave a deck of Kitty Cards on each table, arrange the nine cups next to the menus, and place the “Reserved” signs on tables 8 and 14, always set aside for your most loyal customers.

Your workday officially begins at 9 a.m. You flip the “Closed” sign to “Open” and, as you expected, there are already a couple of people waiting. You greet them with a smile and invite the first couple in: women adore coffee... or rather, cats, and it's not uncommon for them to drag their dates here.

You're taking your first order—cat paw-shaped cookies and a macchiato—when the bell above the door rings again. You're not surprised to see her come in. She's a regular.

She heads straight for table 5, as always... but this time there's something different.

The first thing you notice is her companion: white hair, light enough to make you think of an old man, but his defined features belie that idea. No wrinkles. Strong jawline. Very tall. His dark suit contrasts sharply with the warm tones of the café. He sits down on the cream-colored sofa without even looking at you. He just smiles. He has red eyes.

Hunter, as if nothing had happened, is already handing out the Kitty Cards. She doesn't waste any time. In a way, you admire her. She can handle four men at once without them getting in each other's way—rest in peace, Caleb—and still save the city from the Wanderers every weekend. She's been coming to the café for years, and she's even challenged you a few times when she's seen you idle.

Silver, your trusty gray Persian, snaps you out of your reverie by jumping on the bar with an insistent meow. You stroke him between the ears, laughing softly. His name tag bumps against your wrist as he rubs his head against your hand.

You approach table 5 with your professional smile, that friendly one that comes naturally. But it falters as soon as that man's eyes fall on you.

He's not smiling anymore. His arms are crossed, his back is straight, and he's not even touching the padded back of the sofa. Every muscle, every vein seems tense, as if he's about to pounce. He's imposing. Intimidating. And the way he lifts his chin, as if floating above the world, doesn't help. His elegant gangster appearance only reinforces the image that Miss Hunter brought this guy straight from some underground fight club.

He holds your gaze without blinking. It makes you uncomfortable. In a strange way, as if he can read you. So you simply decide to ignore him and focus on Hunter, who greets you with a broad smile right after throwing down a card. It was a good move: the evol kitty that emerges meows happily and does a little spin on the cup of the same color and dances.

“What would you like to order?” Your voice is friendly, trained, the one you reserve only for customers. But you're talking to her, not him. You don't even look at him. Still, you can feel his gaze fixed on the back of your neck.

"Uuh, orange juice with cheesecake. What are you going to order?" She replies cheerfully. Her energy is completely at odds with her companion's gloomy demeanor.

“A coffee would be fine.” His voice is hoarse, firm. It doesn't sound threatening, but it has a weight that lingers in the air. Serious. Unexpectedly calm. Perhaps too pleasant. You don't stop to think about it.

You write down the orders in your notebook without looking up. When you write “coffee,” you hesitate for a second. You wonder if that man even took the time to read your menu or if he just ordered the first thing that came to mind.

"Your orders will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait and enjoy your stay," you say, with your usual courtesy, and move on to the next table.

Once all the orders have been taken, you return to the counter. You cut a slice of cheesecake, squeeze the juice, and prepare the coffee. You carefully place everything on the silver tray and carry it back to table 5 with both hands.

Hunter thanks you enthusiastically. He, on the other hand, doesn't even look at you. He's too focused on the cards. His furrowed brow, the intensity with which he stares at the deck... Someone was using their brain overtime to fight their bad luck.

You return to the counter and continue working, focused, almost on autopilot. Until you hear Hunter's voice approaching, in a complaining tone. He's taking out his wallet while his partner follows close behind.

“I'm sure you bent the corners of the cards! Cheating is wrong and—HEY!”

She is interrupted by a slight but determined push. The silver-haired man steps forward and, without warning, practically shoves his card in your face. You blink, squinting at the dark sheen of the plastic. You're not sure, but you'd swear that card costs more than your entire building.

“I'll pay. Don't worry your pretty little head,” he says with such casual arrogance that you frown slightly. “And give me a box of those chocolates,” he adds, pointing to a box near the cash register.

Without saying a word, you take the card and efficiently ring up the purchase. You hand back the shiny black rectangle, along with the box of chocolates.

“Thank you very much for your visit. I hope you enjoyed it. Come back soon!” you say with the automatic smile you reserve for customers. Cordial. Polished.

The couple leaves. Hunter waves goodbye, beaming as always. He says nothing. Not even a glance. Just his back walking away until he disappears through the door.

Rude.

[ . . . ]

Miss Hunter brings Rafayel and Zayne on the same day. The first comes for breakfast, the second for a snack. The next day, it's Xavier's turn, who stays longer than allowed because he simply overslept.

They are all friendly to you. They greet you, talk to you, make you feel part of the atmosphere. They don't have that strange air about them that you don't know whether to call arrogance or threat. They are cordial, even charming, and they leave with the same politeness with which they arrive.

But eventually, she brings him back.

The man with silver hair.

You still don't understand how the dynamic between them all works, but there they are, again, facing each other in Kitty Cards. From the counter, you can clearly see how he hides the deck under the table when his partner isn't looking at him, and folds the corner of a couple of cards. You don't have the humor or the desire to scold him for ruining your deck or for cheating, so you decide to look the other way as you deliver a batch of kitten paw-shaped cookies to the table next to theirs.

Once again, he's the one who pays. Miss Hunter follows him outside, complaining about losing, while carrying a box of chocolates he bought at your counter. It becomes routine. Every week, three rounds of Kitty Cards for each boy.

But there's an unspoken rule that's never broken: you don't talk to the silver-haired man. And he doesn't talk to you. All communication goes through Miss Hunter.

You assume she's some kind of social butterfly. She has that glow that attracts guys who, for some reason, seem calm and scary at the same time (because Zayne also fit that description, and Caleb made you feel this same uneasy feeling for a while). What you feel when you see him is something more raw. An instinctive aversion. A caution you don't know how to name.

Fear? you wonder, as you leave a cup of latte on her table, with the foam drawn in the shape of a cat's face. Her smile when she sees it is soft, brief, and makes you think that no, it's not fear you feel. It's intimidating, yes. But not terrifying.

You then leave Miss Hunter's multifruit juice and a couple of cat-shaped cupcakes. She squeals with delight, even though she's ordered them a thousand times before.

“Thank you!” she exclaims, beaming, before stuffing a whole cupcake into her mouth. She's not exactly graceful, but her genuine joy is overflowing. She loves your cupcakes.

The silver man, on the other hand, says nothing. He just smiles quietly and watches her with a calm expression. He seems serene, perhaps even happy, just looking at her. A cat jumps onto his lap. You recognize the brown fur instantly; it's Oden.

One of your most sociable cats. Brown in color, the kind any family would adopt immediately... if it weren't for the fact that his tail ends in a stump. You picked him up on the street, injured. You became too attached to give him up for adoption.

Oden is charming. And that would be good news, if the man hadn't become as tense as he did. Back straight. Hands raised as if he didn't know where to put them. A grimace appears on his face.

You rest your tray under one arm and, with the other, lift the cat firmly by the middle.

“Sorry, he's a little restless,” you say with a forced smile, looking at the man. But it's Miss Hunter who responds before he can even open his mouth:

“No problem, we're in a cat café for a reason,” she says sweetly.

Still, you take Oden to another area of the café. You put him on an empty sofa, a couple of tables away. You stroke his head. He settles down and purrs even as you walk away.

Why did you send Oden away?

You don't have a specific reason. It's not fear, not really. The man seems capable of enjoying the finer things in life; his smile gives him away. You don't think he would hurt a cat... at least, not with Hunter around.

But there's something about him that unsettles you. Something you can't explain. Enough to keep your cats away.

Maybe it's silly. Maybe you're being overprotective. But there's something about that man that screams danger. You don't know if you have the right to judge him based on a hunch. But your instinct—the one you've honed, the one that has sometimes saved you from things you'd rather not remember—twists every time he's around.

You go back to the counter and don't pay attention to them until closing time. This time it's Miss Hunter who comes up to pay, always smiling, with the same black card. He stays behind, watching them both with those red eyes that you can't hold for more than a couple of seconds. You lower your gaze. You take the card, charge what you owe, and return it along with a new package of chocolates.

“Thank you for visiting. I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Come back soon.”

[ . . . ]

A couple of days later, she returns. This time, alone.

The sun is already beginning to set, tinging the windows orange. She takes a seat at table 5, her favorite. Perhaps you should suggest that she reserve it officially, but her irregular visits would be a headache to coordinate, so you dismiss the idea as you approach to serve her.

“Welcome back. What would you like today?”

“An apple juice and some cookies.” Her voice is soft, laden with an exhaustion she makes no attempt to hide. She smiles faintly.

You write down the order in your little notebook. “Difficult day?” You hum, as if that would lighten the question.

“Difficult Wanderers,” she replies with a sigh. She carries the same weight as all the hunters in the association: training, missions, risks. All on her shoulders.

“Will you be available for a game of cards?”

“Luckily, there aren't many customers today. I'll come as soon as I can.” With that, you retreat to the kitchen, dodging a dark orange cat with one ear missing that has settled down right behind your feet. It's related to Tiger, although you can't remember its name right now. One of your new adoptees.

You serve the last customers, deliver orders, collect the remaining payments. When you're finally free, you take Miss Hunter's order to her table... and take the opportunity to bring yourself an extra. A second plate with your favorite treats. You haven't eaten anything all afternoon, and after all, who's going to complain? The cats? Being your own boss has its advantages, and guilt-free breaks are one of them.

You leave the juice and the plate of cookies in front of her. No one comments on the extra honey candies in the corner of the plate. They're a little something from the house. Something you offer on special days, or to special customers. It's your way of cheering them up a little.

You sit down in front of her, put your snack to one side, and pick up the deck of number cards to shuffle. Miss Hunter takes care of the jokers, imitating your movements with a small smile.

“I saw that there are new cats up for adoption,” she comments, leaving her share of the cards on the table.

You start handing out the right amount for each one. “It's that time of year again... lots of cats, few adopters.” You sigh, feeling the weight of being the temporary mother of a feline gang. “The shelter is planning to launch a free neutering campaign for both pets and strays. I don't know how successful it will be, but they wanted to use the café to promote it.”

You're the first to throw down a card. A blue kitten jumps out of the illustration and lands in a cup of the same color. It gives you a good number of points.

“Sounds good. There's a white cat without a collar that I've been trying to catch these days. If I succeed, I'll bring it” she says, throwing down a wild card to take your card.

But you block it. She frowns silently and throws a pink kitten that lands in a white cup.

“Are you planning to keep it?”

“With all my missions, I don't have time. But I'll find it a good home.”

You almost feel guilty when you block her turn again, preventing her from throwing a wild card. Even so, she hardly seems to notice. She continues without complaint, playing a green kitten with such a low number that you feel sorry for her.

“I can take care of it for a while, if you need to. One more or one less, it doesn't matter” you say, as she picks up a new card and hums as she contemplates her options.

“That won't be necessary. My friend loves cats. I was thinking of asking him.”

“Zayne?” you ask without thinking. It's a shame that man, as much as he loves cats, seems to be a walking cat repellent. Rafayel is an automatic “no” and Xavier didn't seem much of a cat person.

“No. The one with the old man's hair and red eyes,” she replies, as if it were obvious. “I know he's a little intimidating, but believe me, he would never hurt a defenseless animal.”

You hum softly as you score twelve points with a brown cat. There are no more colored cups left.

“Does he even have pets?” you ask, with more bitterness than you intended to let out.

“Does a bad-tempered robot crow count?” He shrugs as if it's no big deal.

“A what?”

You play a card to reduce her brown cat to a single point. She counters, and you deny her again. The poor cat drops to two points. Miss Hunter looks at you as if you had personally insulted her.

“I have no idea if it's a handmade robot or a modified animal. It likes mechanics... it's a little weird.”

“Sounds like a nerd.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Miss Hunter loses. Three times in a row.

You offer her some extra chocolate chip cookies to console her wounded pride. She stays until closing time, helping you herd the cats into the back room while they continue chatting.

“My friend really loves cats, you know?” she says, as Oden rests peacefully in her arms. She carefully places him on a cushion. The cat settles on his back and tries to reach her with his outstretched paws, his claws extended. She strokes his head with a smile. “I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoo them away next time. But I understand if you don't want him around... He makes that kind of impression.”

You don't respond right away. You count the furry heads to make sure everyone is where they should be. Only then do you turn to her. You think for a moment, then sigh.

“I'll consider it. But if he does anything... he's dead.”

Miss Hunter laughs “If he does anything, I'll hold him and you do the rest.”

[ . . . ]

The following week, the first person to accompany Miss Hunter in her games is, once again, the silver-haired man.

You approach the table with your professional smile, notebook in one hand and pen in the other. You watch as Miss Hunter buries her nose in her deck of cards, visibly frustrated. One glance is enough to tell you that she is losing... badly. She was never good at using wild cards.

“What would you like today?” you ask, keeping your tone friendly.

“American coffee and a box of chocolates.”

“So early?” asks Miss Hunter, raising an eyebrow. Her tone is a mixture of mockery and surprise. Just what you wanted to say.

The man's smile oozes arrogance as he replies:

“In case you give up too soon.”

Miss Hunter's mouth opens wide in indignation, but she doesn't say anything. You quickly step forward, wanting to close the order before the third cat war breaks out in your shop.

“And you, miss?”

“Apple juice and strawberry cake.” She snorts, crossing her arms.

Turning away, you can't help but laugh as you walk away from them.

In the kitchen, you check your notebook and prepare everything on a single silver tray. Plate by plate, you leave the breakfasts at their respective tables, until you reach the last one: number five. The usual one. Theirs.

And there you see him.

Ruford, your new adoption: a sphynx cat missing one of his front legs, rubbing against the legs of the man dressed as if he had come straight from a funeral. For a moment, you tense up. You fear he will kick him away or do something worse. Ruford isn't exactly pretty, nor is he popular with customers, and you don't need anyone to reject him again.

But instead, the man leans toward him. He gently strokes him between the ears, helps him climb onto his lap when he notices he can't do it alone, and stays like that, his fingers scratching under his chin. His brow is relaxed. The corners of his mouth are barely turned up. It's almost... a smile.

Sitting there, petting a hairless, one-legged cat, with that serene expression and the forgotten cards between his fingers... he doesn't seem so intimidating.

Your little smile doesn't fade when you approach to leave their orders on the table.

[lorelei-larai]

life is roblox

[lorelei-larai]

His loser moment

[lorelei-larai]

ANIMATED LINES | rainbow 002.

──────── ⵌ PINK ...

──────── ⵌ RED ...

──────── ⵌ ORANGE ...

──────── ⵌ MUSTARD ...

──────── ⵌ YELLOW ...

──────── ⵌ GREEN ...

──────── ⵌ MINT ...

──────── ⵌ BLUE ...

──────── ⵌ LAVENDER ...

──────── ⵌ PURPLE ...

( tw : flashing ) the og animated lines, but in other sizes ! apologies for not making these in different sizes in the first place—it’s actually been a year since I first released them heh. anyway, here are the other sizes 〜

as always, they’re vvv smol so it’ll be easier to save on desktop !

please like, reblog, and credit 〜

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[lorelei-larai]

Childhood trio Pt. Kindergarten! Zayne and Caleb

MC, kneeling: Aww, hello Caleb. What brought you here today?

Caleb: I wanted Zayne to come with me to the beach!

MC: Waaa! That's so fun!

Zayne: Uh, yeah. I'm not going.

MC, turning to Zayne: Your best buddy went out of his way to ask you in person. You're going to the beach, Zayne Li.

Zayne: Oh boy.

Scene cuts to Zayne and Caleb at the beach

[lorelei-larai]

One of art series with Sylus from LaDS~ Btw Commission OPEN~ Just DM

[lorelei-larai]

it's actually insane how much i've fallen in love with sylus i need him so bad

[lorelei-larai]

Something tells me it has something to do with my people's pilgrimage, I have no proof but no doubts either.

Tumblr... You want to make me lose my mind

[lorelei-larai]

A role-playing game with an "ending" -❌ A sedative after this "cat" - ✅

Btw commission OPEN~ Price list is pinned on my profile

[lorelei-larai]

He’s clingy in the sense that he unconsciously follows you from room to room.

In the kitchen prepping breakfast? He’s leaning against the counter, handing you eggs to crack from the fridge.

In the home office to get some work done? That mop of white’s on the futon against the wall behind you, poking his head up with a twitch of a smile each time you look over your shoulder to check on him.

Using the bathroom? He’s on the bed in the main bedroom, propped on the edge like a comfortable, watchful little feline, smiling each time you look up.

In the garage, tidying up? He conveniently needs to do some maintenance on his motorcycle, thus taking up the same space.

Are you in the living room, catching up on a show? He’s at the other end of the couch, pretending not to be interested in what you’re watching, massaging your feet on his lap.

Tending to the garden? He’s squatting beside you in the driveway, handing you plant food and the hose.

He’s like a toddler who can’t get on without having you in sight. You’re his safe space. His continuity. He doesn’t want to impede or smother you, and if you tell him you need space, he’ll leave with his ears flattened and tail low like a dejected dog. But he’ll be elsewhere waiting for you to come out so he can repeat the cycle all over again.

[lorelei-larai]

Imagine someone breaking into your house not knowing you’re both assassins or terrifying people and you’ve both just had an argument and a break-in is a good reason to vent out the tension.

[lorelei-larai]

Meet me where the land meets the sea 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉

Rafayel sat in a chair next to your hospital bed, tracing the features of the little girl he was cradling in his arms

The little girl who he had waited centuries for

The most angelic thing he had ever seen lay in his worldly and tainted hands from the many life experiences he had faced

what an odd world we live in.

She adorned a little lace sleeved jumper with a matching bonnet, old timey sure but a relic of lumerian tradition he’d hand sewn himself even managing to thread the lumerian fish in the middle. It was perfect

Rafayel carefully tickled the sweet baby girls heel as her nose scrunched up, an exact replica of his down to the little freckle on her nose

But her eyes… her eyes

As they flickered open he felt he could die a happy man. his heart slowly but surely melting

One eye was all rafayel a beautiful juxtapose of blueish, pink and purple hues while the other eye was all you.

Rafayels chest fell forward in defeat

“oh little glubs , you just wanna break daddy’s little heart in two don’t you sweet girl” he said whining as if he was gonna start kicking his feet at any moment

“daddies a mess isn’t he seraphina” you replied tiredly through a yawn as you fiddle with the Polaroid in your hand.

Raf had asked one of the nurses to take a photo of all three of you shortly after seraphina was born and everything was settled

the photo capturing you holding seraphina angling her towards the camera and rafayel sitting next to you on the hospital bed, arms around you with his cheeks resting on the top of your head, you’re grinning from ear to ear showing your baby to camera while rafayel cries tears of joy

Raf carefully makes his way to over to you with baby seraphina in hand to get a glimpse of what you’re looking at

“you know, I had that photo taken cause I planned to paint it for the house but.. I dun think I can do it anymore” he says seemingly uncharacteristically calm as his focus flickers from the baby to the photo

“why’s that?” You reply as you shift over a bit in the bed and pat the open spot for rafayel to lay next to you

“Tyrian purple, takes tens of thousands of conches to get one gram, and the color I use for your eyes is made of seashells at the bottom of the sea, I’d be willing to explore the deep blue sea a thousand times over just for you but.. her” he sighs looking down at the baby who seems to be following his words intently

“she’s made up of colors that can’t be replicated, look at her eyes my love, the only ingredients that could make one as special as her is me and you”

As you play softly with seraphinas hand your eyes make there way up to rafayels taken aback by his words, but his eyes are already on you a soft smile gracing his face as his eyes are glassy brimming with tears

“in lumerian culture the land meeting the sea could only cause destruction. An eternal clash that didn’t account for the unity that could come out of it. Two souls damned from the beginning, when disdain becomes love and appreciation-“

“when opposites collide harmony is born” you finish of rafayels sentence tears now mirroring rafayels

At first he looks slightly shocked but his face settles into one of pure love and comfort as you rest your head on rafayels shoulder. he often wonders how your souls are already tied together eternally but he figures out a way to fall more and more in love with you everyday.

In rafayels exhibition hall now hangs a painting with a far deeper meaning than words could begin to explain.

one side rippling a soft yellow while the other side gleams the proud color of a calm sea, they both meet in the middle forming emerald green the exact color of seraphina’s birth stone

Another frame hangs right beside it but it’s not a painting it’s a photo, the photo of the day you and rafayel officially became a family

A little excerpt lays underneath the frames reading

“meet me where the land meets the sea, where opposites collide and create harmony”

Reblogs, replies and notes are always appreciated but never expected 🤍

Check out my Masterlist while you're here

Taglist 🏷️

@calistaxoxo24 @mariojins

@nezuswritingdesk @swaggyv1v1

@wintereve3 @deejse

@lucidreamsea @monsochhichi @sxkura-blxssxm

@lady-wallace @weepingangel2222 @eolivy @inspiredfairy @wordsgodeep @reit0o @shinreiplays @kithyyy @ruenaie

@princessofenkanomiya @yeompei

@theoceanisas0up @rosiesluv @kiyadeleine

[lorelei-larai]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 4

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (vindicated!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, player wants to sock a certain 3D character in the face  A/N: Here’s part 4! Also, a taglist at the end of this post! Just lmk whether you'd like to be added/removed, no sweat ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ Happy reading!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

You swiftly pull up Reddit. And then Twitter (X) on another window. You’ve got to find answers.

Typing in “sENTIENT SENTINCE SENTIENCE LADS ML HELP” in the r/LoveAndDeepspace subreddit search bar, along with keywords that have anything to do with “breaking the fourth wall” and “recent major updates” on X, you quickly scour for anything that comes even close to your current situation. 

Immediately, you see a bunch of mix-match results, some even dating as far as the first month of the game’s release. Your eyes skim through blocks of texts, hoping there’s a comment – or a tweet – somewhere that could shed some light to this conundrum. 

Already, you see some discussion on sudden fourth wall breaks. But you’ve seen posts like this before, and they’re most likely pertaining to the way their LI’s gaze falls directly on the player’s line of sight when they’re in Dynamic Pose mode in Glint Photobooth. 

The common suspects for this are usually Xavier and your resident headache (Sylus). It's one of the “known” bugs of the game, even so far as being choreographed, almost, from the way players intentionally pose the MLs at certain angles to attain the likeness of sentience.   

You remember the first time it happened to you, way back when the Photobooth feature was just recently introduced. You were taking photos of Xavier—letting him pose freely in dynamic mode so that you could capture a more organic look, when his eyes “met” yours directly. 

Of course like any other (delusional) player, you entertained the novel idea of actually being noticed by the videogame character you’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to. Got excited, squealed over it, felt an instant doki-doki on your kokoro—the whole shebang. 

… Along with probably hundreds of other players who’ve experienced the same thing. 

So, yes, these instances occur more frequently than one would think. Not really what you’d call particularly noteworthy. 

Then you see the threads from players who swear that their LIs really understand how they feel during their tête-à-tête sessions. It sounds promising, and you spend a few minutes reading through their "testimonies."

—Until you surmise from what you’ve gathered that all of them only appear like they do. How Rafayel, Zayne (and yes, even Sylus) seem to know what they need to hear, from how accurate their generated responses are. 

Keyword: generated. So, no. They still aren’t anything more than glorified soundboards with really good timing, however attractive it may be to think otherwise. 

Ooh, that one sounds a little too bitchy, even for you. 

It’s got nothing to do with the players, nor has it anything to do with how the game works, really— bugs and all. Fuck, you were one of those people who milked the fantasy over the same coincidences once upon a time. You were. Before the coincidences started to be anything but. 

Before you had to worry whether you still have your mental faculties in order.

With every—misleading—post you stumble upon, you feel yourself becoming more restless. There’s a fervent glaze in your eyes and your typing’s getting diabolically worse. (you could barely read that last search input–bitch, how are you fit to work?) You’re sure that if you looked in a mirror right now, you’d look as deranged as you feel.

Xavier “bug” that looks so real omg?? Skip.

Sylus – New Voiceline? You check it out. Yeah, It’s just one of his newer—programmed—voicelines. 

Conversations with Rafayel got ~too real~ all of a sudden. You wish that yours had stayed the way they’ve always been, but alas. 

Stop feeding into my delusions [Zayne] challenge: Failed. Oh? You’re almost done reading the first paragraph of the Redditor’s post, when you catch sight of the latest update below: 

Resolved. Uninstalled the game. Multi-banners are getting too expensive (See my other post). Okay, you respect that. Hear that, Infold—

You’re slowly losing hope. Clearly, your case is kind of… mayhaps a tiny bit… different. From the rest. Dare say, exceptionally so.

To what end, you don’t know. You’re left with more questions than answers, and the primary enigma isn’t giving you much to work with.

Without anything else left to do, you resort to mindless scrolling. You’re swiping up, scrolling endlessly through the Top Posts of All Time, and it feels like you’re about to reach the end of this damn subreddit… When an unassuming post from a deleted user catches your attention. 

It only got a few upvotes, and barely enough comments to gain traction. Unless one’s desperate enough to have been looking as hard as you are, it just looks like one of the many random dead posts from months ago. Nothing special. 

Even the title is unassuming: I think the game’s broken??

You start to read.

Hi, so uhhh I’m 2 months in the game and everything’s been going well and all… Until a few days ago. IDK if this is a bug ?? but my Rafayel’s been acting so weird lately….. Ik I’m gonna sound delusional, but it’s like he’s actually aware of me ME. Not my MC. 

He’s got a bunch of new dialogues, and they’re all so accurately specific it’s creeping me tf out LMAO. IDK how the devs got THIS much info on me (like is this even legal) but they do. Or at least, Rafayel does? That sounds rly stupid out loud but yeah lol. Oh and he doesn’t even let me switch between MLs anymore. The game just… crashes? whenever I try to. 

Always been a Rafayel main (he’s the reason why I installed the game in the first place) so I was REALLY ecstatic over what I thought were new updates from the game… buuut when I tried looking it up, I can’t find any related news from the official LADS channel(s) about recent patches or updates with this feature, and no one seems to know what I’m talking about??? 

I feel like I’m going crazy… Literally as I’m typing this, Rafayel’s spamming me with notifications. He’s so fucking clingy… I love it??

Plsplspls if anyone’s experiencing the same thing, comment or DM meee. I need someone to talk to, aside from the fishie lmao no matter how much he insists that he’s enough omg (?!?!!)

Holy shit— you can’t believe it. This… this is exactly what you’re looking for. 

The six comments under the post ranged from calling it complete bull to outright mocking the OP, and you understand why the post didn’t get any more popular. 

For a brief moment, you feel a certain kinship with the original poster. A tinge of… shame (?) washes over you as you scan through all the negative reception; it’s as if the harsh insults were hurled directly at you instead.

How fun. There goes your fleeting idea to post the same question on the forum, if all else fails. 

Speaking of. Your eyes quickly dart to the small text just above the title to check their username—but to your utter dismay, you see (and remember) that it’s from a deleted account. 

The user no longer exists.  

God, that can’t be it.

You spend a solid twenty minutes trying to look up ways to retrieve information—contacts, socials, anything—from deleted accounts. No dice. 

Deep in your gut, you know that whatever else you could possibly find on both apps wouldn’t compare to what you’ve already come across.

You’ve officially hit a dead end. 

-

-

-

With heavy limbs and a downtrodden spirit, you haul yourself up from the floor—just to turn around and collapse face first on the sofa. A deep, drawn-out groan escapes you as you shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down from all the stuff that’s been boggling your brain. 

It doesn’t seem like you’ll be finding a solid answer to your question (questions, in plural) any time soon. So what else can you do? 

Well, aside from putting away your groceries; the currently-thawing fish and the condensing bags of pre-cut veggies aren’t going to store themselves inside a freezer anytime soon. A loudly meowing ball of fur has also been relentlessly clawing at your leg at the foot of the sofa for the past five minutes, demanding to be fed and petted.

Whoops. You hastily push yourself back on your feet to address these pressing tasks pronto.

..

…

…..

 (Now that’s out of the way—)

You swipe your phone open—yet again—as you flop back onto the couch. And, maybe, you’re a glutton for punishment. Maybe you’re just a little too over the excitement of the unknown factors in play. Or maybe, you just want another shot– to try one last time—

What you know, though, is that whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed about stuff at work, or you need something to distract yourself with, you open the silly otome game on your phone to make yourself feel better. 

So. That’s exactly what you do. Even if that silly otome game’s now the reason why you’re feeling so goddamned stressed at the moment.

 

Go figure. 

The game boots up. You sullenly glare at the loading bar as it progresses from 35%.... 

68%.... 

95%......... 

Once again, Sylus_v1.0 (!) greets you from the center of the home screen, looking exactly the same as he did last when you opened the app, which was— damn, has it really been over three hours already? 

“At this hour, the day is just getting started,” he remarks nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes drift to whatever’s on his left. 

You give him a dead-eyed stare; slightly wary, but overall unimpressed by the act. “God, I hope the fuck not.” 

There’s no new content since your last proper login, as far as you can tell. At first glance, you see some of the regular, daily badge notifications, but nothing really stands out to you. There’s no unexpected red dot on the mail icon this time, nor is there any on the Hunter Info tab. 

So far, so good. 

With slight hesitation, you begin to speak, even if you aren’t sure whether your intended recipient can actually hear you or not.

“Um, so. I’m really kinda freaking out right now and–” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the frustration building in your throat. There’s an edge to your voice as you speak your next words, “it’s because you’re– you’ve been giving me mixed signals. I–I don’t know what to think anymore–!”

 

He remains unmoving, showing no signs of having registered what you just said. You sigh. 

“Ugh, it sounds like I’m talking to an actual boyfriend or something. This is driving me nuts.”

 

Still no response. 

“Can’t you give me a sign?” You whine defeatedly, trying to catch the eye of the pixelated man on your phone who’s resolutely looking at the right side of the screen. Is he purposely avoiding eye contact or what? “Like… I don’t know—blink twice if you understand what I’m saying right now.” 

He blinks. Once. Fucking—

Does he think this is some kind of joke? 

“I’m gonna poke your dick off,” You threaten him menacingly, your pointer finger at the ready to commit assault. “I swear, I’m gonna do it—” 

Wait. Was that a twitch on his lips? 

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him, critical in your scrutiny for any sign that might reveal the truth to this stupid charade he’s putting on. Because it’s a charade. It has to be. 

All of a sudden, embarrassment colors your cheeks as it dawns on you what you just said to him. What you’re poised to do. Fuck, you just wanted to get a rise out of him. Test the waters or some shit. Then again, if he’s actually aware– if he CAN actually hear you— 

Quickly, you retract your finger away from where it hovers precariously centimeters above his crotch area. “Right. Sorry.” 

Scrunching your nose, you press the Agenda icon on the corner, resignation sitting heavy in your chest. Since it doesn’t look like you’re getting any answers tonight, you might as well just do your daily tasks while you’re in-game, right? 

So you go through the motions of ticking off each task on the list half-heartedly, collecting the subsequent rewards one by one; just enough to reach the hundred star mark. 

It’s petty, no doubt irrational, but you steer clear from anything that would require you to interact with him. You start off with what’s easiest to complete: gifting Stamina, spending Stamina, spending more Stamina, and buying items from the Shop. 

Speaking of items… You try your best to act indifferent as you catch sight of the staggering number of red dias that has recently come to your possession, there on the upper right corner of the screen. Before you could even recall the other materials so kindly gifted to you the other night, you immediately exit the Store window to go about your business after you’ve finished collecting today’s free loot. 

You breeze through the Bounty Hunts and Core Hunt stages with excessive use of the Auto Pursuit option, rinsing and repeating until you’re almost out of energy. You don’t want to risk playing an actual battle, since your strongest Memory Cards are from the man you’re currently giving the cold shoulder to.

Also, you have no idea what to expect once you enter combat mode—and right now, you can’t be damned to know. 

Before you know it, you’re done with the daily Agenda. Close enough, at least. You didn’t even have to interact with the white-haired male LYLA wannabe to get the hundred golden stars. Go, you. 

Without anything left to do, you’re back to staring at the—now-seated—man on the home screen who’s still intent on avoiding you. There’s Mephisto perched on his finger, appearing in a plume of black feathers, projecting a holographic screen for the Onychinus leader to scroll through whatever evil juju he’s been up to lately—the very picture of calm detachment. 

Almost a minute passes by. 

You can’t help it. Poke. Pokepokepokepoke—

“Once you’re trapped in life’s banality, the only thing left is “staying alive.”"

“Oh, for the love of— is that a hint or not?!”

You really wish you could’ve talked to the person on Reddit about this. Ask them whether their version of Rafayel had also been this difficult, this uncooperative. It can’t be that different from what you’re dealing with, could it? 

Just a chance to talk… You brood wistfully. To know what’s happening to them right now. Ask them for advice on how to provoke some type of reactio–

Suddenly, something clicks in your brain, and you almost bite your tongue to prevent the spark of anticipation from showing on your face.  

"Alright, you win," you concede with an exaggerated sigh, raising your arms over your head to appear as if you’re simply stretching away the stiffness in your muscles. You try to inject as much reluctance in your tone. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

 

Again, you’re met with radio silence—not that you’re expecting a response at this point. 

(Well, not yet.) 

“That’s fine…” You trail off deliberately, drawing lazy lines across the screen with your pointer finger, until it stops right before the small message icon on the left. 

With feigned innocence, you muse, “Hey, I wonder how Xavier's been doing lately.” 

…

A beat. You almost believe nothing would come out of your last, and obvious, attempt at goading him but then— 

Sylus throws his head back with a sigh, casting an almost exasperated glance at the ceiling. He flicks his wrist dismissively, and Mephisto vanishes in a puff of dark smoke. There’s an unsettling fluidity in the way his gaze shifts toward you; disconcertingly lifelike, when his eyes finally—finally—lock onto yours. An intensity behind those red eyes that makes the look feel unnervingly deliberate. 

Your breath catches in your throat. There it is. The reaction you’re looking for.

A weary amusement frames the way he tilts his head sideways—with the way the corners of his mouth curve into a mocking smile, eyes never leaving yours.

He raises an eyebrow up as if to say, now what?

“I knew it,” you whisper shakily, eyes widening into saucers. “I fucking knew it.” 

“Mm, took you long enough.” 

Before you could even react to that, Sylus flashes you a two-finger salute and winks.

The game crashes. 

“Oh, no, you don’t–" you growl, not wasting any second tapping the game icon again. It doesn’t even give you a chance to reach the main menu before it glitches, and you’re back staring at the widgets on your phone’s home screen. “Motherfucker.” 

You keep trying. 

And with every attempt, Sylus, freak of nature that he is, responds with another system crash. On the eight try, you succeed on entering the game and you feel a sense of relief seeing the loading bar—before, lo and behold, it crashes once more. 

Your left eye twitches. Inhaling deeply, you hold your breath for a solid fifteen seconds before sharply exhaling through your nose.

You jab a finger on the icon of his dumb face again. You ought to change that shit as soon as this game of chicken lets up. 

“You’re gonna let me open this app, Sy-Sy,” You sang with faux cheer. “Or, swear to god, I’m uninstalling this thing before you could even—” 

 

… It loads successfully before you could even finish your sentence. 

“Alright, alright.” 

There he is; closer to the screen now, wearing a faint smile, as though trying to stifle a full-on grin from breaking across his face. He looks thoroughly entertained by the entire situation, like it’s the most fun he’s had in ages. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“You–you—” Sputtering, you glare at him, betrayal in your eyes. “You’re a fucking ass!” 

“And you’re an absolute delight to play with, kitten,” Sylus coos at you, his smirk widening.

But when he catches the trembling jut on your bottom lip, the amused glint in his eyes softens into something that almost seems sympathetic—and dare you say, apologetic? 

“For what it’s worth, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little—but looking at you now, I see I might’ve taken it too far,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in a show of contrition. “I’m sorry, little dove.”

You press your lips together, your gaze darting away from the screen. “I thought I was going crazy.” As opposed to now? “B-but, um– it’s all good, I guess.”

A flush creeps up your neck when you hear him chuckle. 

Fuck, this is really happening, the hysterical thought rushes to your mind, unbidden. Chat, what’s the plan?

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 <3

[lorelei-larai]

Tumblr... You want to make me lose my mind

[lorelei-larai]

Happy Pride! Especially for my SEAsian folks!

(Please do not steal these, tq. Ask if you’d like to use it somewhere.)